Scatter
by permanentwhite
Summary: [SasuNaru, ItaNaru, others] The nonlinear mess that consumed their lives, built them up, only to collapse... Narutocentric
1. Prologue

**Title:** Scatter  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** Naruto belongs to Kishimoto Masashi. Lyric paraphrased from VAST song "I'm Dying"  
**Pairings:** SasuNaru, ItaNaru, others

Prologue

* * *

In the light of day, Naruto's knuckles are red, red and slightly chapped. Today, the world feels slanted and sad, and at the moment, it's as if he feels no great need to stretch his lips into a wide--too wide--smile. It seems as if there is no longer a need to reassure anyone. 

Older now, he's gotten older. Naruto splays his fingers, and his hand, bony the way boys' hands can be, is black against the harsh, cold winter sky. His eyes flicker over the red transparency, the in-betweens at the base of his fingers. If only everything was so plain to see.

For a while, the tears refuse to come, no matter what, as if he's dried up completely. He glares, squints at the sun, and for a moment, it looks as if they just could fall.

They don't.

* * *

"Who among us is perfect, Naruto?" 

Sakura holds the cup of tea like she would a baby bird. She sighs, and the steam rises in waves, soft, pale ghosts.

Naruto sits across from her with his knees to his chin.

When he smiles, Sakura worries.

* * *

At night, he is someone different. He finds himself taking a cab to Sasuke's house every night, as if possessed. 

When Sasuke takes Naruto into his arms, it almost feels like the first time.

Naruto's fingers always find their way into the wrinkles of Sasuke's black dress shirts, tracing paths up Sasuke's broad back.

He realizes he craves him, and smiles, leaning in against Sasuke, and at night, Sasuke is all he sees and knows.

Everything else just fades.

* * *

Sasuke contemplates the importance of roses in his relationship with Naruto. He wonders if little gifts, as ephemeral as flowers would be of importance to the boy--man?--if it would could make, whatever it was that they had between them, more concrete. 

He leans back in his swivel chair. He stretches his legs, and moves to stand, the chair creeking as he leaves it, and he walks until he reaches the panoramic windows that overlook the Tokyo skyline.

In his breast pocket are a pack of Lucky Strikes, just in case. He lights one, and glares at his reflection in the window, washed out in the light of day.

* * *

_'Tokyo?'_

_He's holding a business card, flicking it around in his gloved fingers. 'Yes. I'm going to look over the family business and after that...'_

_Naruto can't fight his frown any longer. Itachi just smiles._

_'Call me if you,' he closes his hand, with card, in Naruto's, 'need me.' Naruto shivers, feeling the back of his eyes sting; he looks away._

_Itachi brushes his fingers against the angle of Naruto's jaw, and as if he pressed a button in just the right way, Naruto turns and stares at him. Itachi leans in, and slowly, kisses him._

_''Bye...'  
__

* * *

_

Sasuke first noticed Naruto during the last weeks in their senior year of high school. Sasuke had long since ripped off every single button on his jacket, as to prevent girls from snatching them. Just outside of class 1C, he saw that the blond, Uzumaki Naruto, notorious for reasons unknown to the general population of the school, had come upon a slightly different solution.

Sasuke watched silently as Naruto dropped every single one of the gold buttons into an envelope, and sealed it. Straining his eyes, Sasuke noticed that the envelope had already been labeled, all in crisp katakana.

'...I...ta...?'

The last line in the address has already disappeared from his line of vision, and he quickly looked away, embarrassed, but saw that Naruto was already walking away.

* * *

She doesn't remember when Naruto became so cold. Maybe it was a gradual change, as most things are. 

She remembers his sudden eagerness to take the entrance exams for all the big universities in Tokyo, and her questions.

_'What's wrong with going to a technical college in Konoha? It's not so bad...'_

_'I don't want to go to a technical college. I want to go to a university... A technical college is the worst possible place I could go.'_

_'A year ago, you didn't care at all. Why?'_

_'I have to follow my heart.'_

_'Where is your heart?'_

_For a second, she sees his resolve falter._

_'If I stay here, I'll die.'_

Naruto always had been surprisingly dedicated when he wanted to be. When he was accepted to Tokyo University, she followed him.

_'Because,'_ Sakura justified, _'he would have done the same.'_

She refuses to consider the possibility that he wouldn't have.

* * *

Naruto has never been good when it came to talking over the phone. 

_'When did you become like this?'_

_'Like what?'_

_'I miss the old Naruto...'_

_'I'm still here, Iruka--'_

_'I really miss him.'_

He pauses, his hand is shaking. Sighing, he picks up the phone, and dials the number he's always remembered. The one Iruka told him to remember ever since he was a little boy.

"Hello?" Hearing the voice on the other line, Naruto hesitates.

"Iruka, it's me," he smiles when he says this; it almost feels like it used to.

"Naruto! How are you?"

"I'm great. How is work?"

"It's fine."

The room is too dark, and Naruto suddenly feels the weight of loneliness and cold against his shoulders. _'I miss you, too, Iruka...'_ He can't say it. He can't bring himself to say it.

"Naruto?"

"Yeah, I'm here." He tries to force the smile on his face again, but he can't. He only clutches the phone more tightly.

As if on cue, the phone crackles, "...I have to go soon... You caught me at a bad time. Call me another time, alright? Or I'll call you... whichever is better," Naruto can almost feel the well-practiced, yet nervous smile on Iruka's face, as if it could gloss over everything and make it all presentable to the world again.

"Okay."

"Take care." Naruto all but slams the phone back down on the receiver, and he feels the bite of regret, of so many things that went unsaid.

He allows himself a tiny smile, remembering that he didn't give Iruka a definite answer before he hung up; the man would panic and call him back almost immediately.

3.  
2.  
1...

Naruto picks up the phone almost before it rings, breathless, "Iruka?"

"Naruto-kun, were you expecting someone else?"

His hands are shaking again. "Itachi..."

The line is beeping, protesting; Iruka is probably on the other line. Naruto has never been good when it came to talking over the phone.

* * *

Being with Sasuke is like a dream. As he walks close to him, their hands brush against each other for a split second, and Naruto flushes at the contact. Suddenly, Sasuke is leaning down, and Naruto can still feel the texture of the man's teeth against his tongue, the press of his smile against the corner of his lips. Guilt rises in his stomach as he thinks of Itachi, his phone call, and his mouth. 

_'Come live with me.'_

_'Why are you saying this all of a sudden?'_

_'You belong to me. Live with me, Naruto.'_

Naruto wants to look past the veil of blond lashes obscuring his vision, but the blur of Sasuke's dark suit, the surreal whiteness of the sky, and everything around him is too bright and beautiful. He presses the back of his hand against his eyes, and smiles, uneasiness pooling and clouding throughout him, and he doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.

_'Not a day goes by when I don't feel like I'm dying.' _

**TBC...**

* * *

**A/N:** The prologue is very nonlinear (as is the rest of the fic) and confusing, but I promise things start to make some more sense later on :D 


	2. Chapter 1

**Title:** Scatter 1?  
**Rating:** R  
**Disclaimer:** Naruto belongs to Kishimoto Masashi.  
**Pairings:** SasuNaru, ItaNaru, others

Chapter 1

* * *

"How do you know you're in love?" The question startles Sakura, who was, for the past few minutes, flipping through a week old fashion magazine. The two of them are sitting in Sakura's cozy flat, the rubber bottoms of their slippered feet slip-sliding against the smooth, hardwood floor. Naruto moves to lie on his back, and Sakura thinks for a moment about how his blond hair will dirty, even on her impeccable floors, and about how he doesn't care. 

She laughs, to fill the void of silence. "Why are you asking me this now?" She goes back to her magazine, but turns pages with even less energy than before. When Sakura looks at Naruto again, she watches the shadows cast from his eyelashes creep across his cheeks. For a moment, she wants to ask him, _'Do you still feel anything for me?'_ He opens his eyes, and the feeling is gone; she stops herself.

"I was wondering," he's about to move, but seems to decide against it, "I was just thinking about it. I mean, I think I said it wrong." He smiles, white teeth flashing. "Well, if you're in love with someone, how do you know they love you back?"

"They pay attention to you? I don't know," she thinks back to high school, and thinks about Uchiha Sasuke. "I don't know."

Naruto purses his lips, pink and shiny from layers of petroleum jelly. "Then, maybe someone is in love with me." He laughs, and it bubbles from his throat, sweet and full. Sakura laughs as well, and it almost feels like all the times past in Konoha.

Sakura tilts her head back until it just hangs, and watched, dazed, as the lights from the outside, cars, streetlamps, dance across her off-white ceiling. She hears Naruto's soft breaths. Inhale, exhale. Their conversation is forgotten, pushed back on their list of priorities. The air around them feels swollen and heavy.

"Sakura?..." she only glances at him for a second, but he's staring at her, and he looks so sad and tired, she's scared. She pretends not to have seen his moment of weakness, and doesn't know why.

"Yes?" the pale pink plush cushioning her toes is greying; soon she'll have to buy new slippers.

"Nevermind."

* * *

Sasuke watches Naruto through the slivers of glass, as the train speeds by. He's on the other side, near the benches, waiting for the next train. The air is crisp; it smells weird, the way the subway should smell. Naruto is standing near the kiosk at the middle, browsing through the sweets, _his_ train scheduled another ten minutes away. 

Somehow, it became a habit, the both of them getting out of classes at relatively the same time; Sasuke off to drop by the family headquarters (nothing less for the soon-to-be vice president), and Naruto, off to wherever it was he lived. Sasuke grimaces, realizing it's only _his_ controlled obsession that makes it a habit.

He wishes for Naruto to be the one to initiate contact.

He feels the familiar rush of air passing as the train comes in, right on time. He forces himself through the doors, all the while, staying focused on Naruto. The blond is hunched over a publication of some sort. Sasuke is memorizing the angle of his shoulder, the bend in his arm, and he balances the thick book in his hand.

Suddenly, Naruto turns toward him, and their eyes lock. But the train begins to buzz and beep, and he sees Naruto's mouth open as if to say something. Sasuke blinks, feeling the sway of the car as it turns, and realizes he shouldn't be as surprised as he is that Naruto is no longer in sight.

* * *

The saliva on his collarbone is cooling as he stands naked, flush against Itachi's still clothed body. Itachi's strong hand grips the sharp angle of his hip, velvetty pads pressing insistently at Naruto's skin. 

The older man watches the halo of white light clinging to the outline of Naruto's form, the slide from the boy's gulping Adam's apple to the muscle between his shoulder and neck. Itachi's palm slides up, affectionately, to the curve of Naruto's back, then down again, gripping the back of the latter's thigh. Naruto turns away, and Itachi can see the redness of the boy's cheeks. He chuckles; the blond should be used to this by now, beyond embarrassment.

"How do you feel?" Itachi's hands dance across the slender muscles of Naruto's stomach.

"Good," Naruto stumbles a bit on the word and his blush deepens.

"You're usually more spirited than this," he almost laughs at Naruto's furious glare. Determined, the boy moves closer towards him and rolls his hips sensually against Itachi's.

"I'm just a little out of practice," he breathes, "that's all." Itachi can feel Naruto's thick, blond lashes fluttering against his neck, as Naruto lifts his chin and places a chaste kiss at the base of Itachi's neck.

With a grunt, Itachi reaches beyond Naruto's body for the light switch, and with a flick of his finger, they are enveloped in darkness.

* * *

"You think he loves you? He's never loved anyone in his _life_," Sasuke bit out, feeling a hysterical anger he doesn't quite understand, an anger he doesn't _want_ to understand. "You really _are_ a stupid idiot." 

"Don't call me an idiot!" Naruto is shouting now, and he doesn't know why; he hasn't shouted in _years_. But the condescending tone of Sasuke's voice makes him feel completely out of control, and he feels the blood pumping in his head more than ever, and it hurts. "What he's given me is more than you could ever imagine! Fucking bastard!" He pushes his fist angrily to stop his running nose, and when he looks up, he catches a glimpse of himself reflected in Sasuke's eyes, and hates himself even more for looking so undeniably weak and stupid.

Sasuke's eyes narrow, and he looks tired, wary. "And what is it that he's given you? Great sex?" Naruto flinches, and turns his face, the sharp angle of his jaw catching the dim light, brightening his face strangely. He reaches out to Naruto and grasps Naruto's arm tightly, wishing he was shocked at how thin the latter had become. "Naruto, please--" Naruto tries to wrench his arm out of Sasuke's hold, his eyes dark.

"Let me go," Naruto whispers, lips pale as he forms the words. Sasuke doesn't move; he's can be as stubborn as Naruto. Naruto opens his mouth, exasperated, and almost screams, but it comes out as a harsh whisper, "Why are you doing this to me?" His eyes are glassy, and Sasuke can see sparks.

"Believe me," he chokes; he almost forgets what he was going to say, "I..." and when he remembers, he can't.

The beauty had been drained away from what they had, and all that was left were the bones and loose flesh and Itachi was ruining it all again. The corners of Naruto's mouth were turning down, and Sasuke hated it when he looked that way. Absolutely hated it. Naruto lowered his head, tilted it, and Sasuke could see his blond lashes trembling. Sasuke's hand has moved down to Naruto's wrist, barely touching the strange, seasonal whiteness of the flesh of Naruto's arm. Barely touching, yet he could feel Naruto's pulse as strongly as if it was his own.

"Are you breaking up with me?" it doesn't even feel like he's saying the words.

Naruto looks up, and he smiles, and Sasuke feels lighter, even though he shouldn't. He tells himself that Naruto is an expert at faking the act of being aloof, cheerful, nonchalant, words that don't really mean anything at a time like this.

"You'll live." It's not an answer, not the right answer at least, an answer that doesn't justify an angry reaction. And it hurts Sasuke to think about it, but his head doesn't listen, and rolls it around and around again, and it gets louder and louder until his hand drops Naruto's, and Naruto smiles yet again, this time, with less conviction.

And Naruto is walking away, jacket hanging loosely on his shoulders as it would on a coat hanger, and Sasuke wonders what Itachi has that he doesn't, and wonders why Itachi was first, and why Itachi being first just seems so wrong. He finds himself looking at the small uchiwa dangling from Naruto's pocket; his phone strap, probably a cheap momento from Itachi, but to Naruto, it probably meant the world, and he suddenly wishes that he could see less, and maybe then, there would be less pain. And all for a dead last, loser, slut, pushover, skinny bitch. He rubs his eyes and wishes he was the one to think of such a simple gesture, and maybe it he had been the first...

"Naruto," he finds himself calling out to the other yet again, and can't really think of what to say. Naruto turns, and he for a split second, thinks he sees the glimmer of unshed tears, but maybe it was just a trick of the light? And he's just being a fool, telling himself that Naruto cares and when it comes down to it, he probably doesn't, and he sure as hell wouldn't hear _that_ from Naruto. But Naruto is looking at him now, eyes questioning. "Naruto, when you go back to him... Promise me," he curses himself for being cheesy and sentimental, but he can't help it, "you'll smile again."

Naruto laughs a little bit. "I can't promise you anything, Uchiha." But he's laughing, and that's all that matters to Sasuke.

* * *

"This one's a keeper." 

"Yeah?" Naruto is crouching near the vending machine, his jeans crinkling and biting into the back of his knees, and he likes it. He's staring at Gaara's bootlaces, waiting for the other to finish whatever thought he began. A familiar pop and fizz cause him to look up, and sees the milky color of Gaara's fingers and the dryness between them, thrusting a thin can into Naruto's face. "Thanks," he murmurs, then clutches the can tightly while licking the rim, savoring the metallic, almost bloody taste mixing imperfectly with bubbly orange. "What were you saying?" He closes his eyes.

Gaara sits next to Naruto, legs splayed. The rain had made the asphalt smell in a strange, hot way, but Naruto knows Gaara, and he knows Gaara doesn't mind. "I forget. How are things with Itachi?"

Naruto lets out a sigh, and is grateful that Gaara doesn't turn to stare at him. "We're fine." He coughs, and hopes his answer is enough.

"That bad?" his voice is loud.

"No, it's great. I'm moving into his new flat this week." Naruto takes a huge gulp and can't swallow the carbonated mess, lying like a bubble against his throat. "It's really great."

Gaara hums, and Naruto sneaks a glance at his friend's hands, and they're filthy, he thinks, just propping Gaara up from the ground like that. He sets the can down and holds his knees.

"What about Sasuke?"

Naruto is still swishing the soda around in his mouth, and it feels like his teeth are going to rot. He swallows, and maybe the painful sweetness will erase the bitterness he felt. All clean now. Ground zero. "What about him?"

Gaara is silent, and he reaches over and begins to sip on Naruto's drink.

"I broke up with him," Naruto glares at the brightness of the streetlamp, and his arms feel like they wrap around and around, and it hurts. "Are you happy now?" He steals the can back, and the liquid swishes around heavily in its container. When he drinks from it, he feels his tongue catch in the metal far too late, and when he disengages himself, he bleeds silently.

"Are you okay?" Naruto wants to ask him what he's asking about, if it's a rhetorical question, but he can taste himself and is disgusted. But before he knows it, Gaara is standing and pulling him up, wobbly as his legs are, and holding his face in his dirty, wet hands.

Gaara is kissing him, sucking his tongue with its wound, and Naruto feels as if he's being consumed. He clutches Gaara's shirt, tattered and black, then moves down and clenches his belt--belts--feeling each buckle, clasp, and he can't breathe. Gaara tastes like smoke, and his mouth is wet and cool.

And he's looking up into Gaara's eyes and his face is too hot, but he's breathing and alive. "What was that for?" he can still taste the blood staining his teeth, and grins, imagining himself, so grotesque and strange-looking, dirty and bloody and tainted. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and his lips are dry and cold and wet and heated all at the same time. "God, you're weird. And scary." He tries to smile again, but can only think about how stupid he looks.

"Don't lie to me," Gaara licks his lips. Naruto doesn't respond, doesn't even move, and his legs feel like jelly. "Fine."

"'Fine', _what_?" He won't give up, even if he has no idea why he's fighting anymore, and that scares him. He's drowning and he doesn't have to; Gaara had thrown him a lifeline and he had thrown it right back at him.

"Stop being stupid, Naruto," and he can hear the exasperation in Gaara's voice, but he can only think to aggravate it in his anger.

"Tell me!" _Just tell my why..._ And Gaara is already walking away, and Naruto is staring at the rust-red of his hair and thinking about blood and Sasuke and why is Gaara angry?

"You were so perfect before," Gaara calls out, still walking, and he's swallowed by the strangeness of Gaara's voice. "Why don't _you_ tell me why you changed?"

"I wasn't," he chokes on the words, "I didn't..."

"Don't lie." Naruto looks up, and Gaara is watching him, and he doesn't know why, but he doesn't want Gaara to ever look at him again with _those_ eyes, so accusing, and he knows he's wrong but--

"Don't leave," he's whispering, pleading, and it's pathetic. Naruto's hands fly to his wrists, his sleeves, anything. "Don't say anything." _What _am_ I saying?_

Gaara is looking down, and his hands are in his pockets, fumbling with change, and it's loud and fills Naruto's ears. "Tell me you're going to finish that."

"What?"

When Gaara takes his right hand out, Naruto follows the lines on the inside of his wrist, leading to the chains and thin leather band around it, his index finger pointing at the can of orange soda, and through his almost-tears, Naruto can somehow see the effervescent pop, burning the cool night breeze. "I don't buy that shit for you to just throw away, you know."

"Yeah, sorry," Naruto bends down again, and his hands graze the top of the can. He stops himself from reaching to the congealing blood, cold to the touch. He smiles dumbly, one hand threading through his now-limp hair, and the other holding Gaara's gift.

_'Was that a confession of love, Gaara?'_

"Walk with me, Naruto." He can only see the sharp, dark lines in Gaara's face, shadows flickering, shifting. Naruto doesn't want to see his old self again, bright and sweet and determined in Gaara's eyes.

_'And if it was?'_

Naruto brings his hand forward and covers his eyes with the back of it, and it's cold and rough.

"Yeah. Like old times, right?" He's smiling so wide his eyes blur but he can't help himself. He's walking, reaching out, squeezing Gaara's hand tightly. It's damp and warm.

_'Imperfection is perfection.'_

His strengths and weaknesses lie in his ability to read other peoples' faces, and now, he can't even decipher the simplest of emotions. The sweetness that had lingered on his tongue has long since gone bitter.

**_TBC..._**

* * *

**A/N:** ...yeah... uh... ;; 


	3. Chapter 2

**Title:** Scatter 2?  
**Rating:** R  
**Disclaimer:** Naruto belongs to Kishimoto Masashi.  
**Pairings:** SasuNaru, ItaNaru, GaaNaru, others

Chapter 2

* * *

It wouldn't have been so bad if Gaara's sheets weren't so crumpled, and Naruto hadn't felt so frustrated and confused. When Gaara moved against him, Naruto had responded with wet, open-mouthed kisses, while his hands pushed at Gaara's chest, nails leaving faint trails all along the redhead's torso. He was still crying as Gaara ran a towel down his thighs, sopping up the not-so-unexpected blood that flooded the juncture between his legs. As Gaara brought the towel to his lips, Naruto stumbled into the bathroom and vomited in the sink. 

"Stay." Gaara's voice still rings loud through Naruto's ears, hours after the fact, even as he stands on weak legs--any second now, his knees will buckle--, supporting himself with his arms, staring at himself in the dirty mirror. His left elbow locked in place, he leans forward, and rubs his cheek. If only _these_ scars would fade. He lets his hand drop, and reaches to turn the handle, waiting for the water to warm. There are bags under his eyes, and he can't look at his own face anymore. Lowering his head, he splashes the water, lukewarm, against his cheeks and forehead, and holds the sink once more. His bangs are wet, and the porcelain cools his hands, burned by...

"Is this normal?" he's looking at himself again; he can't help it. His eyes look duller than usual, and at this, he smiles. Something inside him answers, claws out, screaming, _No, it's not--_ He feels the white towel hanging on the rack near him; it's dry enough. He drags his tired body to the shower and turns the knobs until it feels like he's on fire, and he sits near the drain, letting it wash over him.

Naruto closes his eyes and sees a memory, a dream, and Sasuke.

He's standing now, watching bubbles, strands of the shampoo that slipped between his fingers spiraling. He shuts the water off, and walks, dripping, back into Gaara's bedroom.

Sleeping, Gaara is softer. "Can you hear me?" Naruto whispers. He sits down, and the bed creeks, dipping to support his weight. Lying down, Naruto touches Gaara's jaw right near his ear and lets his fingers linger for a moment, his legs tangling themselves in the dirty sheets. Naruto notices a shift in Gaara's breathing, and stops himself from feeling Gaara's forehead.

"You're still here." When Gaara sits, the comforter pools at his waist. Naruto can only think about how dark his hair looks at the moment. "Are you okay?"

He's still lying on his side, "I'm okay. It could be worse. I just took a shower." He used to be unable to lie, and now they slip out for no reason. Gaara stretches to reach his pants, fishing for his pack of cigarettes, the kind with too much tar; he always wants _too much_. Naruto is still tender and swollen, but he won't admit it, his pride won't let him. He'll just wrap himself up again, he'll tend to his wounds later on, alone. The match sounds as it sparks, _flick_, and the first thread of smoke is so delicate and beautiful, fraying. Gaara sucks on it, and the dust and the air, the dust in the air, swirls about the light cast from the flaming ash. He cups his hand around the cigarette, and Naruto notices how square Gaara's nails look, harsh white cutting into pink.

The path of smoke moves. "You were so precious to me then."

"When was that?"

"High school."

_'My name is Uzumaki Naruto. I am seventeen and will be a senior soon. Please take care of me.' Gaara presses his palm over Naruto's card._

Naruto doesn't want to listen to what Gaara has to say anymore.

"You never knew until I told you?"

"I did. I just didn't want you." He all but crushes his face into the pillow he hadn't even realized he pulled to his chest. He tells himself he doesn't care. He doesn't.

"And you do now?"

"No. I don't need you." Naruto can feel Gaara move, and he imagines him over him, cigarette burning away to his lips, hanging. Limbo. "Believe it," his voice breaks near the end, and he knows he's lost. He curls his hands over his eyes, and rubs his lids with his fists, and sees lights. The ropy muscles of Gaara's arms twitch as he moves to lift Naruto's hands, twisting their fingers together, twin cages above Naruto's head. Descending like a vulture upon Naruto's quivering lower lip, Gaara sucks on it, biting, but not hard enough to draw blood. _How hard would I have to bite to draw blood?_ Naruto thinks, briefly, or more like, _How long would it take to_ intentionally_ draw blood?_ But when Gaara leans into him, his thoughts scatter.

"I never thought I would be holding you like this," Gaara mumbles into Naruto's neck, his breath moist and uncomfortable. Naruto twists his head and peeks at the ash tray and the hastily smashed cigarette. He lets Gaara kiss him, and it's not so bad.

* * *

_'Sasuke, what's wrong?' Naruto is standing near the bar, glass in hand. 'You're even more quiet than usual.' Sasuke turns and watches as Naruto turns back to preparing his drink. He tips his own glass of wine against his lips, and glares at the night sky._

_'It's nothing. I just met with my brother today.' He closes his eyes, listening to the sound of Naruto's bare feet on the hardwood floor, his heels tapping._

_'Your brother?' a pause, 'you never told me you had a brother.'_

_Sasuke laughs, and hopes it doesn't sound as awkward and strange in Naruto's ears as it does in his. 'Why should it matter if I have a brother or not?'_

_'It doesn't. I just want to know more about you. Is that so wrong?' Sasuke shakes his head, hair floppy from his shower, and feels Naruto's arms under his own, delicate hands creeping against the ditch of his clavicle. 'Heh, bastard-Sasuke, I just want to scoop you up and hold you! You look so sad right now.'_

_'You talk so freely, idiot.'_

_'Hey! Don't call me that.' Naruto presses his cheek against Sasuke's back, and smiles when he feels Sasuke's shoulderblades shift as he stretches his arms, catching Naruto's hands in his own. The folds in the blond's left hand are cool from his cup and his ice, still clinking, breaking down on the coffee table. He traces the lines in Naruto's right hand with his index finger, all soft skin and rough edges. Naruto only bunches his hands together in response, and presses harder against Sasuke's back. 'You're warm,' he whispers, simply._

_'Hm.'_

_'Tell me what he's like.'_

_'Who? My brother?'_

_'Is he anything like you?' Sasuke can feel Naruto's smile through his dress shirt, against the column of his spine. He lets go, and walks back to the coffee table, bending for his drink, and he brings it to the curve of his lips, staring._

_'I don't know.' Naruto laughs, loud, echoing._

_'Don't start with me, Uchiha! You're always like this. I knew you had a stick up your ass from the moment I met you.' He smiles so widely that Sasuke can only see slivers of his blue eyes, but his face is still so sweet he struggles not to smile, struggles to remain cool. 'I bet he's nicer than you.' But now, he's looking away, and..._ Look at me!

_'No, I don't think so.' Sasuke's itching for a cigarette._

_'Like _you're_ a good judge of character,' his eyes crinkle when he smiles, 'when I first talked to you, I could have sworn you were going to kill me, or something. You looked so intense--' he sucks on an ice cube._

_'Whatever. Your attitude is pretty annoying too.' Naruto scowls, and turns to the clock above the bar._

_'Crap, I have a lecture in the morning. My day is totally filled tomorrow.'_

_'Oh?'_

_'Yeah! Living here is crazy. There're always things to do. So, about your brother... Maybe I could meet him sometime?'_

_'Why would you want to?'_

_'Why can't I? He can't be so bad, right?' Naruto rummages through his pockets and glances at his phone. 'Okay, I really have to go. Thanks for having me over!'_

_'Get out of here, dead last.'_

_'Hey! Stop it! I don't even know why you're calling me that, I'm ten times smarter than you, at least.' Naruto's mouth is red, and Sasuke feels the urge to... In Naruto's mad dash to escape, Sasuke sees a flash of red and white dangling from his phone.

* * *

_

"It used to be that you really hated the rain, right, Naruto?" They sit, huddled close together on the couch, fingernails stained yellow from peeling orange rinds. Naruto chews, swallows, sighs.

"I still don't really like it," he replied, palms filling with orange juice as he held them under his chin. After pressing them carelessly on the stack of napkins they had tucked between their bodies, he brings his hand near Sakura's face and picks off a sticky seed, dropping it onto the plate balancing precariously on the sofa arm, weighed down with fine, white threads.

Sakura, smiling her thanks, wills the sad gaps in their conversations away, allowing them to fall into a hidden cache to be erased later on so that only the happy moments, filled with laughter, remain. The citrus sweetness stains and withers their mouths and pains, and Sakura concentrates on the curve of Naruto's upper lip and asks him, jovially, how things have been.

"How they've been?" his eyes are half closed.

"Why is it that people always try to stall by repeating the question?" she notices her voice has taken on a sharper edge, her words cut, and she doesn't care. Not right now. "How are you lately?"

"I've been seeing Gaara lately." _Seeing, or _seeing_ seeing?_

"Oh. Isn't he that--?"

"Yeah, that one guy who transferred in late." Naruto pushes a longer part of his chunky bangs to the side, out from under his eye, and holds it there, before letting his hand drop. It drops along with it, and he smiles a little, helplessly. "You _have_ to remember him. We hung out with him a few times, and he had red hair."

"Oh." Of course Sakura remembers him, she remembers everyone, but sometimes, it feels better to feign ignorance, for fear of seeming too freakishly observational.

"We're out of oranges." He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, wipes his hand on his shirt. Stepping off the couch, his feet make a hollow sound on the wood floor, even padded by his slippers; painfully harsh thumps. It's as if all they can do is smile at each other, guilty, and she does. She rests her chin on her right knee, then on the couch, leather cold on her already icy cheek. She watches him through her lashes and shifts when he sits back down, lowering his head apologetically, "I couldn't find anything else to eat. Are you still hungry? I can make you something or--"

"I'm okay, thanks." She sees a yellow-purple bruise near the nape of his neck. "Naruto, do you and Gaara...?"

* * *

_'I think I have a problem,' he whispers, the hand in his hair not comforting in the least._

_'Why is that?' Through his shield of skin, every bone and tendon and joint--everything--can be felt._

_'Lately...' his voice is muffled out by a hand over his lips._

_'It's alright. In time you'll grow and you'll learn; things will start to make sense.'_ Perhaps.

_'I don't want to grow apart from my friends... or anyone.' Two hands are feeling his sides, but he doesn't try to stop them._

_'All distance is relative,' lips press against his hair, deep gold in the dimmed room. The boy knots his hands in the india ink spilling, smooth._

_'Shh,' it comes like a hiss, and he lifts the boy, up, up, up...  
_

* * *

The sun and the clouds are blotted out by white, bleached, details rubbed away. Naruto watches from the antique window, a cup of black coffee (strong, the way Itachi likes it and makes it) in his hand, warming his blood. He had to stop himself from adding too much cream and sugar--no, had to restrain himself from _looking_ for the cream and sugar, saying to himself, _I'm grown up_ now. The cup tips against his hand, only half full, but still steaming, and he has yet to drink from it, knowing the bitter, stinging heat that will sear his flesh, or at least, make his lips feel scalded, cheated out of a good morning. 

How he longs to open the window, to flip the latches and raise the heavy glass, and declare to the world... _What?_

Naruto doesn't realize how close he's standing to the window until the steam from his cup blotches against the window, clouds obscuring his vision. He thinks for a moment as what to write on the window's temporary canvas, perhaps _Naruto_, or... He shuts his eyes and for the third, fourth, fifth time that day, holds back.

His reflection is but a shadow on the window, and he smiles wide, all teeth and gums and nothing beautiful. _What was beautiful in the first place, anyway?_ He pushes his lips back together, a thin, drawn line. The warmth from the mug is fleeting, fleeting, gone, and still he holds it with a sort of sick desperation, _Can't you come back?_ and realizes then that he has been staring at nothing for far too long. He walks slowly, calculating each step as if in a funeral procession, and dumps the coffee in the sink. It cascades down other dirty dishes, and he sets the cup on the granite countertop.

The note on the counter reads, in Itachi's blocky, yet elegant hand, _Naruto, I hope you slept well. I'm having the movers come in later today, so feel free to go out during the afternoon. I made some extra coffee this morning--I hope you like it black._ Naruto must have read it ten times over; he can't stand to think what he would do if he counted beyond ten, and smiles. A common courtesy. Itachi knows, shouldn't he? He should know that Naruto _hates_ coffee, unless it's saturated with sweetness. He should know that lately Naruto can't sleep at all; can't sleep since he left Sasuke, and can't _leave_ because...

Naruto slides the chair from out under the table and sits down, gingerly. He puts his head down, staring at his pink fingertips, feeling the cold tiles on his toes, pushing them idly into grooves between them, dirt collecting and imbedding.

"Can't you come back?"

**_TBC...  
_**

* * *

_A/N:_ The plot thickens! Or not. SLAPPED 


	4. Chapter 3

Title: Scatter 3?  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Kishimoto Masashi.  
Pairings: SasuNaru, ItaNaru, others

* * *

She had tried her best to appreciate what she had. Uchiha Sasuke was a god. It was a privilege to be graced by his presence, and dammit, she tried her best to act like she really, truly, appreciated it. 

Ino had told her that girlfriends don't just appreciate boyfriends--they love them.

When Naruto found out about their relationship, three weeks, two days, four hours, and seventeen minutes after Sasuke finally asked her to walk with him, he had complained to her for hours on the phone about how it wasn't right, it just wasn't right, Sasuke was a bastard, and that he wasn't even that good-looking, and wouldn't shut up even when Sakura told him to.

As always, Sakura found herself listing the pros and cons of the situation... realizing almost immediately that there was nothing to list. She couldn't even, despite all her years of glorifying her classmate, declare at the top of her lungs that she was in love with him, like she and Ino did when they fought over him in junior high.

At the very least she had managed to hang onto a sliver of her pride, dumping him on the eve of their one month anniversary. Haruno Sakura dumped Uchiha Sasuke, and she tried her hardest not to cry when he looked as aloof as ever, tried not to yell at him when he simply nodded, turned, and walked the other way, the sound of the bell ringing echoing in Sakura's ears.

She told herself that his lack of response was because he was hurt and didn't know what else to do, and she could live with that.

She moved on

* * *

Gaara's hand clasps Naruto's as they lie tangled in Naruto's bed. Naruto's lips curl into an half-snarl as Gaara opens his mouth and shuts his teeth--biting into Naruto's personal bubble--before moving in to kiss the blond. Gaara's unshaved upper lip tickles Naruto, but he doesn't make a sound in response, no characteristic crowing about the redhead's laziness concerning personal hygeine, only the smack-suck of Gaara's lips on his own. 

"How long is that man going to be gone?" Gaara's thumb touches Naruto's bottom lip--his fingertip catching the wetness of Naruto's mouth--an oddly intimate motion, and Naruto cuddles in response against Gaara's smooth chest.

"I don't know," he whispers back, conspiratorially.

Waking up isn't the same, next to Gaara, next to Itachi, next to any man that has ever laid down with him, and Naruto mourns the loss of the tender mornings inside the apartment he shared with Sakura, back when things were... He shakes his head and focuses on Gaara, who has began to shift, snaking his arms around Naruto's body, calloused fingers slipping into every dip between Naruto's bones and skin.

* * *

He had his first cigarette sitting next to Itachi on the beach. Itachi had driven the both of them out, far from Konoha, and spread himself on the smooth sand, lighter in hand. 

"Old man, hand me one of those, will you?" he whispered into Itachi's ear, fingered the leather cigarette case in the older man's hand.

"Don't call me that, boy," Itachi replied, his index finger and thumb making a circle around Naruto's wrist. He pulled Naruto into his lap, pried Naruto's sandy hands off a cigarette, before he paused, thoughtfully. "Where did you come upon such pretty fingers?..."

Naruto flushed and clasped his hands close to his chest. With eyes squeezed shut, he shot back defensively, "My mother gave them to me," his tone more abrasive than he had intended, failing to notice the tiny, teasing smile on Itachi's face.

"What about your face? Did your mother give that to you as well?" Itachi laughed as he just barely dodged Naruto's balled fist.

"Don't make fun of me! I'm a boy," Naruto bit out, "I have a dick." He supports himself by leaning into Itachi, the heels on both hands pressed into the man's thigh.

Itachi raised his hand and touched Naruto's face so softly that when the boy jerked back, he wasn't sure if Itachi had even reached out at all. "Why don't you show it to me then?" Naruto couldn't read anything in Itachi's black eyes, but that didn't scare him, at least, he didn't think it did.

"No," he replied, with a huff, but drew closer to Itachi nonetheless.

When he got home and fell to bed, smelling like smoke, Iruka said nothing.

* * *

"Your brother," Naruto has his cheek pressed against Itachi's hot back, "he goes to my school, doesn't he?" 

"Mm," it's not an answer, but Naruto keeps on talking.

"I noticed him a long time ago, even before I met you," he smiles, and presses his body against Itachi's spine, winding his arms around the man's middle, not caring when Itachi grunts, adjusting himself so he can read his book better under the dim lighting, "and I thought, that guy, he's pretty cool."

"Little brothers aren't cool," Naruto giggles; Itachi sounds a little jealous, and he likes that.

"Yours is! Do you think I can be like that one day?"

"I wouldn't want you to be."

"Why?" Even as he says this, Naruto knows the answer. He's known it for a long time, but he can't help it--he needs some sort of reassurance.

"Uchiha men are all somewhat the same. You're not really like anyone else I know." But he's not even focusing anymore on the answer, only the crackle of mosquitoes burned by the scented lamps on the patio matters in the moment. The night is heavy and thick, too hot to move, and far too hot to be pressed against someone else, but he doesn't care.

* * *

Itachi had never lied to Naruto, or so he likes to think. He simply disregards certain details, relishes in letting the younger boy figure things out for himself. In a way, he's teaching him how to be independent. This is what Naruto believes with all his heart. 

"You will lose yourself in this city."

"You mean I can?"

"No, you will."

Naruto being Naruto didn't care about the consequences of moving in, of being too young. His life and reputation in Konoha was in shambles, and he could always depend on Itachi for a means to escape everything he feared.

* * *

Smoke drifts from Gaara's nose and mouth; he looks like a movie star, Naruto thinks, his hand clapped over a red notebook, stained from being used as a coaster. He's holding the cigarette Gaara had handed him between his index and middle finger like Itachi had told him to, but it's burned almost up to the filter and the smoke chaps his throat, makes it hard not to cough, hard to speak. 

"I hate this place," Naruto whispers, his voice slightly hoarse from the dry night air, from the cold. "I just want to get away from all of it."

Gaara doesn't look at him, but Naruto imagines his cool stare, still ripping a hole into the side of his neck, the place where he always noticed Gaara looking, focusing, blazing. "Don't you remember?" His voice is quiet, but Naruto doesn't find the same comfort in it as he used to.

Naruto's heart seizes in his chest for a bit, and flutters against his ribs, his clavicle, "What are you talking about?"

"You left Konoha a long time ago."

It stops then, the warmth from Itachi's padded fingertips, the warmth of Sasuke's heavy winter coat, Sakura's slightly clammy hand clasping his moments before their commencement ceremony. The light from the paper lanterns hanging at his favorite ramen stand flicker for a moment, and slide away in his mind, Iruka's laugh is muffled and strangely tinny in his memory. "It doesn't feel that way," the spark that lit the cigarette between his fingers bleeds into his veins, its phantom touch sears him.

"Those demons, you can't ever get rid of them," Gaara's voice is so close, and Naruto squeezes his eyes shut, lets the ash fall to the ground along with the stick, where it burns still, even against the damp pavement. When he opens his eyes again, everything is blurry bright. "They'll leave you when you're gone from this earth." Gaara has his arm around him, but Naruto is colder than ever.

"Is that a promise?"

"Naruto," his hand touches the knuckle of Naruto's index finger, and sends chills through his bones, "die with me."

Naruto closes his eyes, 'You'll kill me,'--"You're tired," and then, "you don't know what you're saying. You don't even know that you're talking right now," he laughs a little, "I don't even know what you're talking about."

"Maybe." Naruto's eyes stay closed, squeezed shut--he can't see Gaara's eyes as he moves in, his breath coming in small puffs against the juncture of Naruto's shoulder and neck. It's like he can't hear anymore--he doesn't want to.

* * *

"You're the most tortured of them all, aren't you?" 

"There was no reason, was there? So why bother? Give them a reason to hate you."

He wakes up in a cold sweat, the sheets sticking to his heated skin.

"Alone again?"

Naruto reaches for his cell phone on the nightstand but stops himself before he falls back onto the down comforter. He looks out the window and sees the dark sihlouette of buildings against the thick purple of the sky. The air around him feels suffocating, flooding his senses with the familiar sense of loss.

--

TBC

A/N: I haven't updated this fic in sooo long... I started writing this chapter a year ago when this fic was still being updated frequently, and since then it's undergone a few rewrites... Ehh I wasn't happy with it but it's as good as it's going to get unbetaed and whatever. Am working on fourth chapter and getting around to wrapping things up/clearing the story up. Stay tuned and thanks to anyone who reads this fic! I appreciate it a lot.

Also, for some reason won't let me edit a lot of the stuff, so if some of the things seem disjointed and whatever, refer to my LiveJournal post of the fanfic, which is a little clearer (or less so), at least with the format...

http://community. sasuxnaru/ 1747710.html


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